


Non-Newtonian Genderfluid (and Other Gender Discussions)

by ColdwaughterWoes (TrickyMxtape)



Series: Gender (Like Time) Is An Illusion [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Is there marqueliot or just platonic make-up friends?, Multi, Needles, Non-chronological scenes, Nonbinary Character, Trans!Eliot, discussions of top surgery, gender questioning, they pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyMxtape/pseuds/ColdwaughterWoes
Summary: A series of discussions regarding (primarily) Eliot's gender, with a questioning Q interlude.





	Non-Newtonian Genderfluid (and Other Gender Discussions)

**Author's Note:**

> CW for needle usage. This is mostly so I could put in some of my shitty jokes

Eliot is thrifty, really. They believe only three things are truly worth spending the money required for quality:

Well-tailored clothing

Top shelf liquor

...

And a healthy assortment of phallic delights.

 

Dedication to the exploration of the final item, and related spells and enchantments lead to their Regalo for Encanto Occulto 2015.

 

An entire bag of functioning dicks.

* * *

 

Eliot lay with their head in Margo’s lap, the fingers of one hand tangling through their curls as they both sip their drinks.

“Look, I’m just not sure if you going down the whole ‘teet yeet’ route is worth it just for a quote tattoo from a shit band you were into forever ago.”

“One, I make tacky look good. Two, there are two different quotes I want your opinion on. Three, you know you’ll be glad to no longer have the second best cleavage in the Physical Cottage.”

“You’re such a bitch. Go on then, tell me.”

“‘Thanks for the mammories even though they weren’t so great’ or ‘mammories, where’d you go? You were all I’ve ever known.’” Eliot sings the lines to ensure they have full effect.

Todd bounds into the room and both Eliot and Margo fight to not roll their eyes at his entire existence.  
  
“Was that Fall Out Boy I heard?”  
  
“Well, if Todd recognises it maybe you shouldn’t tattoo it on your chest.” Margo whispers to Eliot. “Yes, it was Todd. Eliot is considering top surgery and thinking about quotes they can tattoo afterwards.”  
  
“Top surgery? Is that surgery that makes you a top.”  
  
Eliot scoffs. “Like I’d need surgery for that.”  
  
“You’re right, hon.” Margo says, with a condescending pat on their head. “They’ll never be a top. They are a verse with delusions of grandeur.”

“My grandeur is in no way ‘delusional’. I am resplendent and Margo apparently made our mimosas with hater-ade this morning.”

* * *

 

Eliot and Margo were putting the finishing touches on their masterpiece. Or, they would be, if he would just _shut up_.

“... I don’t know how to explain it. Like, I’m sure I’m a guy. A man – Have you read any Gaiman? He’s good. Not ‘Fillory’ good, but still good. Wait – never mind. What I mean is... me. I identify as a dude, but I like when you both...” He gestures vaguely at the pair, currently wielding make-up brushes and jewelled hair clips in his direction.  
  
“You know, it doesn’t have to be a big thing. You’re allowed to like being pretty.” Margo says, stroking his hair back and clipping it above his ear.  
  
“Am I pretty?” Quentin basically weaponises his puppy eyes at Eliot, and the quip they had on the tip of their tongue, melts.  
  
“Yes, you’re very pretty.” The glow that bursts forth with Quentin’s smile is worth losing the opportunity for snark. “Margo is right, though. You don’t have to analyse your relationship to gender whenever you want sparkly eyelids. Now, stay still so I can finish your lipstick.”

\---

Quentin bursts into Eliot’s room, his braids unkempt and make-up smeared over half of his face. “Hey El! I figured it out!”  
  
“Figured what out?” Eliot groans from beneath their mountain of pillows. They wriggled their way up to the open air, took a glance at Quentin’s face and just said “No” before burying themself again. 

“El-no?”

“No. you don’t get to have a discussion about anything as important as you’re making this sound if you look like that. Go, get Bambi to teach you how to use make-up remover. Then, and only then, will I be able to look at you without laughing.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, confusing Eliot as to why the boy hadn’t left the room, before Eliot noticed movement in the bed beside themself.  
  
“Oh there you are Bambi. You have to deal with Quentin and his face. Half the words were mumbled directly into the pillows.”

“What’s wrong with his face, I thought you liked it?”

Quentin let out a flustered whine.

“We made him all pretty but didn’t show him how to take it all off before bed and now he looks ridiculous. Fix him. I’ll make drinks and nibbles. How does a champagne brunch sound?”

\---

The spread laid before Margo and Quentin when they returned to Eliot’s room looked nothing short of magical. Champagne flutes, and a variety of tiny foods. 

“Okay, now that your..” Eliot gestured at Quentin’s face, “situation has been remedied, tell me. What was so important that you felt the need to burst into my room at an ungodly hour announcing that you had figured it out?”

“Ungodly? Eliot, it was 10am.”

“On a _S_ _aturday_ , Quentin. Anyone who wants me awake before midday on the weekend better be putting at least one of my body parts in their mouth. Have some decorum.”

“Fine, whatever. Did you guys every play with oobleck when you were kids?” The pair looked blankly at Quentin. “Never mind I’ll just make some quickly.”

He sweeps round the kitchen in a flurry, quite the sight for someone only apparently looking for one ingredient. Quentin puts it in a glass bowl, starts adding water from the tap. He stirs as he goes, judging by eye the correct amount of water for the mixture, adding more until it looks right.

“Okay, so, this is oobleck.” Quentin held the bowl out to the two of them 

“You are just holding out a bowl with a viscous white liquid in it. Kinky.” Margo says before taking a bite from a finger sandwich.

“Not the point. Anyway, gender things. I am this.”

  
The confusion is plain on Eliot’s face “Still not understanding...”

Quentin poked into the bowl and the substance he made solidified at his touch. “If I, or someone else, put pressure on my gender identity, it’s really solid. I am a man. But if I’m able to just be...” He tips the bowl and the oobleck runs to one side. “I go with the flow.”

Eliot reaches out to poke the oobleck for themself. “What I’m getting from this is ‘if I touch you, you’ll get hard’.”

“No! Well, yes, but no!” Quentin blushes. “Look, I know I probably didn’t have to think this hard about my identity or presentation and I know that having the space to question like this is probably me coming from a place of privilege, but I started thinking about it and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it -”

“Ah so you Quentin’ed it?”

Margo tilted her glass to her lips, nodding sagely. “I get it. You’re non-newtonian genderfluid.”

 

 

* * *

 

The knife maker works his way down the line of ‘men’. Eliot doesn’t know how to explain to these backwater hicks that they aren’t exactly a man. It was hard enough when the backwater hicks were their family. _Let’s not get into a gender and identity discussion with the guy wielding a knife, besides_ _there is only one type of high I’ll ever –_ The knife slides through their palm, blood welling in their hand.  
  
“You know, this makes sense. I’ve always wanted to tell people that my pronouns are ‘Your Majesty’.”

* * *

 

 

“Eliot! What the fuck?” Quentin barges through their doorway.  
  
“Hey, Q. What’s crawling up your ass?”  
  
“That!” He points to the syringe lodged in Eliot’s thigh. “What have you taken? Injecting drugs can be dangerous Eliot! I need to get you to the infirmary.”

The grave look on Quentin’s face seemed to get deeper as Eliot simply laughed back at him. “This is serious!”

“I know you think it is, Q. And it’s sweet, really. But I’m safe. I could do this shot blindfolded.” They held the testosterone vial out to him. “I’m just taking my anti-cistamines.”

* * *

 

 

“I’m Eliot.”

“Isn’t that funny! My name is Eliot too!”

“ _No.”_ they thought ... And going off the look on this _other Eliot_ ’s face, they had also said aloud. Oh well, they picked this name and it was theirs. They were not giving up their name to some lesser Eliot, who probably got it from their parents like heirloom baby spoons and generational self-loathing.

“What’s your middle name?”

“Todd..?”

“Nice to meet you Todd.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that not everyone has the same relationship to gender as I do. This is just one non-binary person's headcanons for a non-binary Eliot. If you have any of your own, let me know. All of these are based things I have said or conversations I have had with other trans/enby/gnc friends.


End file.
